Member-only story
A LOVE SUPREME
1 min readNov 2, 2019
That long-held sax note- divine
Makes my soul just drift away
The smoke, the booze, the horse,
Man, the flash of the crack o’th drum
The thumpity, thumpity, thump.
He just stand there in a haze
John’s soprano sax, Miles’ trumpet
Blowing the blues. All the way To Missisip
All the way to me crying in a ditch.
Those weary, weary blues. No shuffling shoes
No dancing close, just a ghost, following you.
Langston Hughes. The poet o’the blues.
Droning a lousy syncopated line
In my arm I rock real slow
Blues go down low. A low-down southern moon
Plantation land. Guitars tune sweet
Every note spark just right on this dark
Hot southern night. When we hear the black folk play
Night and day.
